For the past two to three years I have become accustomed to constantly drifting from one country to another, one dwelling to another. I felt reassured, stable and strangely secure in never knowing where I was going next, where I would end up and who I would meet along the way. I was immersed in a perpetually fluctuating landscape.
In this state I began to appreciate the small traces these journeys gifted me with, hoarding postcards, letters, souvenirs, all sorts of ephemeral and everyday objects from each stop on my pathway. These have become my ‘aid to memoirs’, the gateway to re-living my past experiences.
I have now, for the first time in five years, returned home to live in my origin town of Flitwick, Bedfordshire. I finally have a stable environment in which to reside but for some reason I feel more unstable than when I was faced with a series of erratic situations and lived a life of impulsive decisions. My main insecurity with being caught in stability is due to a disintegration of my relationship to my personal belongings. Having been packed away in boxes and hidden away in my Mum’s loft I feel like parts of my personality have no outlet for expression, I cannot reflect and analyse and develop past artworks, I cannot install my room/home with ephemera, I cannot put to use each item in accordance to its intended function. This is a consumerist anxiety linked to a fear of wastage, but equally an existential one that relates to fears of forgetting: forgetting what it is like to embrace a fragmented notion of self and the disparate elements of my past in some new cohesive (if only momentary) form. The dynamism of the memories and experiences I once had and cherished now lie in small dusty containers waiting to be remembered and reactivated.
As an interdisciplinary artist and hobbyist archivist I can no longer sit back and let my creative and itinerant drives be hidden in a dark, dusty loft. I am driven to put my skills into practice and to embark on a journey of re-discovery, critically interrogating what can be gained from reacquainting myself with my past.
The most exciting and compelling way to do this is to invite an audience to join me, to open my questions (as an individual seeking recognition of self, as an artist wishing to perform again, and as an archivist keen to put her skills into practice) to a group of people who are as curious as myself to see what is hidden in the loft!
Whilst I cannot physically invite an audience to help me in my mission of understanding who I am (there simply is not the room) the Internet can be a saving grace to bring an audience to the space and to bring the space to an audience. Via the power of the web I can connect to you in all different parts of the world, all from the comfort of our own homes! With this knowledge I am eager to see how the medium of the Internet can be used as a tool for bringing us closer together, to discuss, explore and experiment with questions of memory, identity, experience, travel, performance, documentation and much much more.